


Susana Maria

by NairobiWonders



Category: Elementary (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Guns, Joanlock - Freeform, Mention of covid pandemic, NYC lockdown, Original Character(s), Post Season 7, Quarantine, Virus, death not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:53:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24284659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NairobiWonders/pseuds/NairobiWonders
Summary: An irregular pays a visit.A trip to the post office.Life takes a turnBlood stains are hard to remove
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Joan Watson (Elementary)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phrase translations in end notes

“Buen día.” The woman at the doorstep graced Joan with a sweet grandmotherly smile but the snow white hair, tie-dyed t-shirt, faded jeans and Birkenstocks made her look more like Jerry Garcia than a kindly old granny. “I am looken for Meester Chairlock Olmess. I am told he leeve here. I am an ol fren.” Another smile and Joan began to see cracks in the older woman’s facade. 

Still she opened the brownstone’s front door and showed her in. “I’ll see if he’s busy. Your name is?”

“Gertrudiz. He well ‘member me, I am choor.”

“Cut the crap, Susana!” Sherlock’s voice thundered round from the lock room. “Watson’s already on to you.” He strode into the hallway. “Really! For a Hispanic woman, you put on THE worst and most false of all Spanish accents.”

“Sherlock, sweetie, you’re looking fit.” This time her smile was genuine and not at all grandmotherly. 

Joan looked from one to the other and crossed her arms before her. “Will one of you tell me what’s going on here?”

“This is Susana Maria de los Santos. She was one of my irregulars in London until she started second guessing me and going behind my back.” Sherlock glared at the woman. 

“Ay, vamos, you were just mad because I was right most of the time.” She gestured with her hand as if to sweep away old memories. She walked into the library. 

“No. I was angry because you were going behind my back.” Sherlock followed close behind her. 

“Mijo, get over it. That was a long time ago and you were not at your best back then, you know.” 

Joan felt like she was watching a ping pong match. They obviously had some history to sort out. 

Susana stared at Joan and leaned in closer to Sherlock speaking out of the side of her mouth. “Te juntaste con una chulita muy linda. Te va dar unos hijos preciosos.” She looked Joan up and down. “Debe ser fuerte para aguantarte a vos.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her and Joan hid a smile. “Watson understands Spanish better than I do, Susana.” He was getting annoyed. “Why are you here? Last I heard you were doing time in Peru for smuggling antiquities.”

“I’m touched. You kept track of me.”

Joan interrupted. “Why don’t I let you two catch up while I...”

Sherlock interrupted Joan, “No. Stay. Please. I’d like a second pair of eyes on her. Señora de los Santos is a master pickpocket and thief.”

“Señorita,” she corrected him. “And thank you. You always were such a flatterer.”

“I’m going to ask one more time before I throw you out. Susana Maria, why are you here? What do you want?”

Her expression changed from flippant to concerned. “I want nothing from you. I was paid by a mutual friend to deliver this to you.” Susana reached into her back pocket, handed Sherlock a small crumpled envelope and started walking towards the front door.

She turned dramatically before exiting, “Cuidarse el uno al otro, eh? La rubia anda enojada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rough translations:  
> “Te juntaste con una chulita muy linda. Te va dar unos hijos preciosos.” “Debe ser fuerte para agtuantarte a vos.”
> 
> You hooked up with a pretty little thing. She’s going to give you good looking kids. She must be tough to put up with you.
> 
> Cuidarse el uno al otro, eh? La rubia anda enojada.  
> “Look after each other, ok? The blonde’s gotten angry.”


	2. Chapter 2

With the front door closed and locked, Joan returned to the library and to Sherlock. “Did Susana know Moriarty?”

Distractedly, he looked up from examining the envelope just given to him. “Yes. Irene and I ran into her at some dance club once and after Irene’s death, I probably shared more than I should have about her with Susana.”

“Moriarty.” Joan corrected him. 

“Moriarty,” he repeated knowing how much she hated his references to the mythical Irene. The small key nestled in the envelope drew his attention. He pulled out a pair of latex gloves from his jacket pocket and reached for a magnifying glass.

She squinted at him trying to picture them dancing. The image was disturbing. “So you went out club hopping with an evil mastermind? And yet I’ve never even been able to get you to attend a precinct Christmas party with me.” He didn’t answer. “Perhaps I should go back to blonde.”

Having only heard her say something about going back to blonde, he looked up at her bewildered. “Huh?”

“Never mind.” Joan shook her head at him. “You don’t actually think that’s from Jamie do you?” Joan moved closer to get a better look at the key. “Need I remind you she’s dead.”

“And need I remind you she is very much alive.” He removed a small piece of paper from the envelope. “The handwriting is most definitely Iree... ehr Moriarty’s.”

Joan reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves for herself. If he was correct, this just got very serious.

The note had identified the key as belonging to a post office box in the Bronx. The post office, unusual for this section of town, was painted a cheerful yellow, rendering it all the more sad. Checkerboard floor tiles added to its surreal quality. Joan wondered why Jamie would have chosen this particular location. She stood as lookout while Sherlock opened the box. 

“Empty,” he whispered. “Is she still watching us?” 

Joan glanced at a young man behind her then let her gaze sweep swung across the post office’s large windows and back to Sherlock. “Yes.” Ah, the windows, Moriarty chose this post office because of the windows she thought. A phrase from one of Arthur’s story books sprung to mind, “The better to see you my dear.” She shuddered and scanned the area once more. 

He locked the box. “Whatever game Moriarty is playing, I don’t think Su is a willing participant. She’s being way too sloppy in her surveillance. She’s better than that. She wants to be seen.”

Sherlock and Joan, quietly discussing possibilities, made their way through the parking lot and towards their vehicle. 

“It’s Tuesday. We need to go get Arthur before we do anything else.” Joan reminded him. “The traffic shouldn’t be too bad.”

“We may have a small problem.” Sherlock murmured. “I believe we have acquired a passenger.”

Joan unlocked the car door and casually glanced at the sedan’s back seat where Susana crouched. She said nothing. Sherlock entered the vehicle. Joan started the engine. 

“You are in trouble Su,” Sherlock, looking straight ahead, stated rather than asked. 

“Yes.”

“She’s the one that got you out of jail, yes?”

“Yes, in exchange for doing her bidding.” Her voice was soft but laced with bitterness. 

“And this, this is her bidding?” Joan asked the question this time.

“Yes. No offense, I’m not in a position to make demands but could we get going? I gave her lunkhead minion the slip but he’s going to figure out where I am soon enough.”

Joan backed the car out of the parking spot and made her way onto the road. 

Susana eased her way up from the floor and grunted. “Hija de puta, I’m too old para esta tonterías... going to get myself killed ...” she continued muttering in Spanish under her breath as she stretched and settled in to the back seat.

“Susana!” Sherlock interrupted her curse laden grumbling. “Why are Moriarty’s people following you? What is going on?”

“You know, la rubia hates lose ends and once my task was complete,” she mimed her neck being slashed and provided an appropriate sound effect to go with it. “That’s why I came here and made sure you saw me. Figured they wouldn’t want witnesses.”

Joan checked the rear view mirror. “I don’t think we’re being followed. What’s the next step?”

“Do you think you can drop me off at LaGuardia? Got a ticket to South Dakota, plan to disappear for awhile. Maybe visit the Badlands.”

Joan checked her watch. “Okay. I think we can make it. Arthur’s not out for another hour or so. I can give the school a heads up if we’re running late.”

Susana smiled, “You two have a son? That’s wonderful!” She slapped Sherlock on the shoulder, “Well done, mijo!”

He started to explain about Arthur, but Joan lightly shook her head no at him; he understood and let it go.

“Do you know why we were given this key? What her ultimate plan is?” Joan asked. 

“Nope. But I think she is laying the groundwork for something. There are rumblings that something big is going down.”

“Hmmm.” Sherlock turned to Watson. “Perhaps this is a means for her to communicate with us in private. Jamie knew I would trust Su, so she sent the key with her. It speaks to a certain distrust of her own organization though.” Sherlock stared ahead lost in thought for a moment. “I suppose we shall have to wait and see.”

The light changed and five seconds later, Joan emphatically honked her horn at the vehicle in front of them, “Come on! Let’s goooo!!”

Sherlock explained, “You do not ever want to stand between Watson and her getting to her son.” 

“Haci me gusta!” She patted Joan’s shoulder. “Adelante Joan Watson!”


	3. Chapter 3

Susana Maria de los Santos was dropped off at Laguardia as promised. She’d left a small duffel in a locker and with many thanks and gracias, and advice for them to be most careful, she set off to retrieve it. Sherlock and Joan watched her effortlessly disappear into the crowds. They scanned behind her for anomalies, suspicious types, followers, and none being evident, they headed off towards Arthur’s school.

The rest of the day was spent in the commonplace - Arthur was picked up, homework done, dinner made, dishes washed, Arthur tucked in for the night - and no discussion between them of the day’s events. 

She found Sherlock in the media room scanning through international news on all seven screens. “I’m heading to bed, you coming?” Joan spoke to his back. 

“Will be there shortly,” he answered rather distractedly. 

They had become disgustingly domestic Joan thought with a smile. She’d been surprised how naturally their relationship transitioned to intimacy, emotional and otherwise. There had been and would no doubt be more rough spots but they were both flourishing, as was Arthur. 

She was still awake when he came to bed. Sherlock slid in to his place beside her, “Can’t sleep?”

Joan sighed and rolled to her side, “I’m worried about all this.” She arranged the sheets over them. “Mainly worried about Arthur. I put the baby monitor back in his room. He was not happy about it. Explained to me he was no longer a baby. But it made me feel better. I’m going to alert Rose to the situation as well, make sure she’s extra careful.”

Sherlock glanced at the monitor on her bedside chair. “I think we can improve on that. Let me dig through some surveillance equipment tomorrow and we will rig something up, hmm?” He shifted a little closer, trying to reassure her. “I don’t think any of us are in imminent danger.”

“I just wish I knew what Moriarty is up to. This whole thing with Susana and the key. It’s very odd. Do you really trust her?”

“Susana? Yes. Irritating as she may be, she lives by a strong moral code. Even when she was going behind my back in London, her motives and ethics were pure. I was very much out of control back then and she was attempting to help when she could have just as easily walked away. I believe we can trust her and the information she’s supplied. As to Jamie, something is off. This isn’t like her. She may be in serious trouble.”

The concern in his voice elicited a derisive snort from her and she rotated on to her other side. “Great, Moriarty’s in trouble and she turns to you.”

Sherlock moved himself closer to her and whispered in her ear,. “Not just me, us. To use a phrase from the common vernacular,” his voice became a leer, “ ... the woman has the hots for you.”

Joan broke out in giggles and snuggled back into him. Satisfied he’d made her laugh, he became the big spoon for her and held on as she drifted off to sleep. It took him longer to get there but he eventually joined her. 

The days, weeks and months passed with no sign or word from Moriarty or Susana. Sherlock and Joan kept their guard up, checked the post office box regularly until the pandemic hit and the City’s shutdown made it impossible. 

The viral threat was a much more of a true threat to their lives than the vague possibility of Jamie Moriarty’s actions towards them. 

Sherlock entered the brownstone‘s foyer with a small bag - an emergency run to the pharmacy for Watson’s prescription. He removed his mask with care. 

The procedure for coming in from the outside world had become a habit for all of them:

Shoes - immediately removed and set by the door. Slippers and/or clean shoes put on. 

Masks and gloves - carefully removed and dropped into hamper or garbage.

If items from outdoors were brought in, the items were removed from their carrying bags (also placed for laundering or recycling) and the items wiped down with a sanitizer and placed in a clean tote bag for transfer into the house. Sherlock had insisted new items into the house be quarantined for a set number of days but this proved impractical and a thorough wiping and/or wash, by him, was now the modus operandi - he wouldn’t risk Joan nor Arthur. 

Outer coats - removed and hung on the portable hanging rack in the taped off section provided for each: Sherlock, Joan, Arthur. Although, as the virus deepened its hold on the City, Sherlock became the only one who ventured out.

Trousers, skirts, shirts - any item that may have come into contact with an exterior surface, removed and dropped in the hamper for washing. Robes were available for modesty’s sake but were generally not used after the first few days.

Hand sanitizer was liberally applied, after which each went upstairs touching nothing and took turns in the bathroom washing their hands thoroughly with soap and water.

It was time consuming and most likely overly cautious to a fault but Sherlock would not veer from this process. Watson’s health was too important, as was Arthur’s.

Having completed the ritual, he walked into the house proper, shirtless, trouserless, and complaining to Joan who he spotted in the library, “This woman fell on top of me. She looked severely ill ...”

“My, my, Sherlock! You do know how to make an entrance.” Moriarty sat back on the library sofa with that ever present smug smile of hers; a revolver aimed at Watson lay in her hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock stared at Moriarty, his eyes narrowed in disdain as he studied her for a moment before turning to Joan. “Arthur?” 

“In bed, asleep,” she answered. 

Jamie chimed in, “Isn’t that precious? He asks about the boy before asking about you or me for that matter. Trust me, children do not deserve that much affection.” 

He took a good long look at his nemesis, “Rose from the dead just to come bleed on our sofa?” He sneered at her. “Why are you here, Jamie?”

“Noticed that did you?” She moved the gun to her other hand; Sherlock moved closer to Joan. Jamie shifted her weight on the sofa cushion with a grimace. “I am in need of a doctor, a discreet and trustworthy surgeon.” She tilted her head and smiled at Joan, who answered her with folded arms and a roll of her eyes. “I have a bullet lodged in my back that needs to be removed. Your overwhelmed healthcare system and it’s deep ties to law enforcement, convinced me I needed alternate care. And since I happen to be in the States ...”

“I’ll have a scalpel in my hands, what makes you think I would want to help you rather than kill you?” Joan’s contempt had little effect on the woman. 

“I know you, Joanie. I trust you. Plus, I’ll have my gun trained on Sherlock while you work. An added incentive to be gentle. If you turn down my request, as much as it will pain me, I will kill you both and leave that poor child upstairs orphaned once again.”

An awkward silence followed, punctuated by the old house’s creaks.

“Guess we’ve fallen off the “no kill” list, hmm? Where are your people, bodyguards, sycophants - you rarely travel alone. Why not have one of them drag up a doctor for you?”

A pain spasm caused a small twitch to her hand. Jamie sighed. “It’s a long, rather ugly story. I am currently an empire of one. Your father left me with quite a mess. In my effort to reorganize, distrust was bred, and those I thought I could count on ... well, I couldn’t.” She looked at Joan, “A word of advice, don’t trust your child.”

Joan remembered the child she’d met so long ago. “Your daughter... she’s the one who shot you?”

“It was inevitable,” Sherlock interrupted. “She carries Jamie’s and Vinker’s DNA. No amount of nurturing could overcome that much evil.”

“I blame her adoptive parents. Filled her head with goody two shoes ideas... but in a way I’m proud of her. Even at her young age, she shows natural ability.” Moriarty winced as another pain spasm hit. She took a long breath to recover, then re-aimed the gun at Joan, “So, will you help me or do I kill you?”

Joan knew there was no true choice. It had to be done. She glanced at her partner before she spoke and he silently agreed. “We will need to go downstairs to the kitchen. We’ll have water and a reasonably clean area to work in.” Moriarty nodded her agreement and Joan continued, “I’ll need to get my medical bag. Its upstairs in my room. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Nice try. Let Sherlock go up. I have more trust in his feelings for you.” She spoke directly to him. “I will give you four minutes to get her bag and get down here or I will shoot your dear Watson.”

Sherlock tried to remain calm. “That’s ludicrous. You kill her and you lose your doctor.”

“Oh, I won’t kill her, not all at once anyway. I’ll maim her. Shoot one leg, then another... depends on how long you take.” She enjoyed taunting him, watching him trying to hide his emotions. 

“Understood,” was his sober response and he moved to leave the room.

“The bag is in my closet on the ...” Joan started to explain. 

“I’ve spent enough time in your closet to know where things are.” Sherlock gave her a thin lipped smile that comforted her somehow. 

“Grab a pair of pants while your up there,” she whispered at him.

“Too much of a distraction for you am I?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Would you two please get on with it!” An exasperated Jamie waved the gun at them. “You have four minutes. Joan and I will be downstairs in the kitchen. Now, go!”

Sherlock raced up the stairs. 

Down the hallway, he went straight towards Arthur’s room. He reached to the top of the door jamb and pulled down a key. He locked Arthur’s door lest he wake in the middle of all this and try to leave his room. Sherlock looked down the darkened hallway and almost inaudibly whispered, “Su.”

Susana dressed in black emerged from the shadows, “How did you ...”

“No time. I am trusting you with the child’s life. Keep him safe at all costs.” He gave her the key and rushed past her to Joan’s room.

Joan removed the bullet cleanly, with minimal pain to the patient. Moriarty refused painkillers wanting stay alert. 

She waved the gun and corralled Joan and Sherlock towards the sink while she stood. 

“Shall I call you an Uber?” Sherlock stood back and watched as she gingerly attempted to put on her jacket. 

“No. I have other plans.... Thank you both for your help. And I’m genuinely sorry to have to do this. But it has to be done. I don’t like lose ends particularly now that I’m on my own. The fewer people who know I’m alive, the better.” She raised her weapon.

Joan panicked. “What about my son? Promise me you won’t hurt him,” she pleaded. 

Some sort of genuine emotion crossed Moriarty’s face as she answered. “I won’t hurt the child. You have my word.” She aimed the gun at Joan and Sherlock stepped in front of her. “Good. Perhaps I can kill both of you with one shot.”

“Rubia!” Came the cry from behind her.

Jamie whirled around to face Susana Maria at the kitchen’s threshold, gun in her hand, aimed at her heart. She pointed her weapon at Su. Shots filled the air. 

Moriarty lay dead on the kitchen floor. A small pool of blood grew around her. Susana slumped against a cabinet while Joan examined her. “We need to get to her to the hospital.” 

Susana cursed under her breath. “Hija de puta... aye ... I didn’t think she’d be that lousy of a shot.”

“Your lucky she was in pain... Messed up her aim.” Susana tried to smile but suddenly bent over, clutching at her abdomen. Joan looked over at Sherlock who stood staring at Moriarty’s dead body. “Sherlock! Call 911. Now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my reasons for writing this was to kill Moriarty once and for all. But when the time came I hesitated. She is a horrible character but she does have a certain charm. Luckily, Susana saw through her and pulled the trigger.


End file.
